


I'd linger in (the warmth of your hand)

by All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us (Phoenix_of_Athena), Phoenix_of_Athena



Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Guess The Author, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Bed, Sleepiness, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tenderness, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena
Summary: The night air was warm and muggy, wafting in through the bedroom window to flutter across skin and disturb the faint light of a low-burning candle.  Outside, a night bird crooned; inside, Aziraphale’s hand rasped softly over Crowley’s bare shoulder and across his back.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820752
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #05 "A summer night in the South Downs"





	I'd linger in (the warmth of your hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Soft Omens Snuggle House discord's Guess the Author event. The prompt was "a summer night in the South Downs."

The night air was warm and muggy, wafting in through the bedroom window to flutter across skin and disturb the faint light of a low-burning candle. Outside, a night bird crooned; inside, Aziraphale’s hand rasped softly over Crowley’s bare shoulder and across his back.

Crowley, his face half-burrowed in his pillow, had a single yellow eye cracked open to observe Aziraphale: skin bare due to the heat and lost between the pages of a book. The demon was tired in a way that ached and pulled at his bones, if it was possible for an ache to be a comfort. His was the tiredness of a being utterly at peace—one who _could_ rest, but who, for now, allowed himself to not. Some moments were too precious to give up quickly.

Sighing softly, he rubbed his face against the softness of his pillow and shut his eyes briefly into darkness, deep and comfortable, lulled by the warmth of Aziraphale’s palm stroking back and forth across his shoulder blades. When he opened them again, Aziraphale was smiling at him. He was handsome, Crowley thought through the heaviness of his head. Handsome, and warm, and rumpled, and happy. 

“Are you comfortable?” Aziraphale asked quietly. His voice seemed louder than it was.

“Mmmh,” Crowley sighed. Aziraphale’s hand traced a path from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. 

“Good.” There was a soft, lingering pause. “It’s almost three,” the angel commented.

“Oh.” The word was muffled by the pillow. Crowley’s mouth felt clumsy and thick. “‘Kay.”

Aziraphale chuckled. It was one of Crowley’s favorite laughs: soft and low and unconscious. He tucked a marker between the pages of his book and set it away. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Crowley’s temple.

“I think that I’ll lie down with you. Could do with a cuddle…. Can always kick the blankets off if we get too warm….” His voice lost substance as he spoke, slipping further from vocalization and more into his own head. His hand stilled, warm and heavy on Crowley’s spine; then the weight vanished and Aziraphale slid beneath the light summer bed linens. His feet bumped Crowley’s, warm and sticky, and he shuffled and readjusted his shoulder beneath the pillow. They blinked at each other, eye to eye, and Crowley arranged his relaxed face into a brief smile.

“That looked painful,” Aziraphale said cheekily, and Crowley whuffed out a laugh of his own.

“M’tired,” he said.

“Then sleep, dear.” 

Aziraphale smoothed a palm across Crowley’s shoulder and brushed a lock of hair from his face. 

“Might,” Crowley mumbled. Tugging his hand out from under his pillow, he curled his fingers against the angel’s chest. He could feel Aziraphale’s heartbeat: unneeded, but firm and steady.

They breathed, and the breath of a breeze answered from the window. It trailed over bare skin and disturbed fine, fly-away hairs that didn’t settle into regular locks. Crowley blinked, and the world became comfortable darkness. This time his eyes stayed closed.


End file.
